Through the Looking Glass and What Alois Saw
by Seiraa
Summary: After somewhat of an accident, Alois discovers a Looking-Glass Wonderland; and before long, it's a race through the upside-down world, as Alois finds himself battling Ciel Phantomhive to either become a king, or be trapped in Wonderland forever.
1. Glass Wonderland

**Author's Note:** Semi-sequel to the 'Ciel in Wonderland' fanfic. The characters' roles are a little bit different from the OVA's Ciel in Wonderland, but only because I wasn't aware that Ciel in Wonderland was going to be animated before I wrote the fic.

**Disclaimer:** _Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There _is property of Lewis Carroll. The original idea and concept of _'Ciel in Wonderland'_ and series Kuroshitsuji belong to Toboso Yana.

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_"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor. _

_Shall be lifted- nevermore!" _

He read over the last word once, twice, three times. He didn't know the definition of the word, yet he could explain the meaning perfectly. He had never heard the word, yet it felt so familiar. Alois read over the passage again and again, then, at long last, reached up and creased the page.

He laid his head against the armchair's cushion, blonde locks falling into his eyes like an avalanche as he listened for a moment. The night winds howled vengefully and snow was falling in thick sheets; probably just a blizzard. His eyes meandered towards the grandfather clock in the far corner of the room.

Not a minute past the eighth hour.

In four hours it would be midnight, and that meant it would be November 5th, his birthday.

After dinner he had gone upstairs and had stayed in the library with a stomachache caused from eating too much of Claude's yummy grilled beef. Instead of taking medicine, he decided to wait it out in the library by reading.

Even though he really had nothing else to read, he refused to go back downstairs; so he perused the room instead. The library was dark (due to the fact that it was nighttime and the shades weren't drawn) but he wasn't disturbed by it. In fact, the only thing he felt at all was _bored_.

He had finished the book of poetry in his hands only a few seconds ago, but he had only been skimming it to begin with. There were multitudes upon multitudes of other books in the library, like _In a Glass Darkly_, _The Legend of Sleepy Hollow_, and _An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge_, all horror stories, of course. But he was too bored to read any longer, and instead, he traced invisible lines with his eyes on all the walls. Every crevice caught his attention, but all he saw were dark, empty spaces.

Claude had come up two hours ago with tea, but he hadn't drank it. He wondered now if it was cold. How long did it take for tea to get cold anyway? Did it depend on the kind of tea? How could you _tell_ how long it took for the tea to lose its warmth? Surely, someone wouldn't keep their finger on the hot cup until the cup cooled to find out.

Alois shifted the book, looking at the cup Claude had left with a large frown. Then, almost carelessly, he dipped his index inside the porcelain cup.

The liquid was cold.

He retracted his finger, sliding the digit across his tongue to lick up the blackened droplets. It even tasted cold, as expected. He frowned again, deciding Assam tea wasn't exactly tasty when it was cold and pushed the cup away from him, rejecting it.

His head lolled to the other side of the chair, crystal eyes scanning the floors until he saw something dart quickly past. Sitting up straighter, he noticed a cerise spider, scuttling across the carpet. Its long legs barely traipsed the carpet's fibers, and the spider traveled in a jerky, clumsy and distorted way, seeming as if it would trip over itself at any moment. Its gait was so strange Alois couldn't help but smirk wickedly, laughing at the creature's maladroit stride.

"Claude dislikes killing spiders," he went on to say, talking only to himself and the darkened walls. "He thinks it's disrespectful to 'tarnish the elegance' of the symbol on the Trancy family crest." There was a certain amusement in his voice that made it seem as if he was poking fun at his butler's words, and he was. Despite all this, he continued to study the spider, and soon realized it was a female, as it was carrying a sack.

He watched the spider a while longer in mild amusement, examining it as he did. He constructed mental notes, mapping its movements. From his studies he was able to note that the creature was a red spider mite; a spider known as a pest for gardeners. In no time at all, he mentally began referring to it as the "Red Queen".

Even though the creature had intrigued him for some time, he eventually tired of it; and with a snigger, he stood up from his armchair, set on killing it. He allowed the spider to crawl to the top of the fireplace mantle before going after it, envisioning all the various ways he could go about killing the thing.

Careful to avoid the ongoing fire, he clambered to the top of the grand fireplace's mantlepiece, and something caught his eye that he had never seen before.

An oval mirror glistened and shot his reflection back at him, but he paid it no _extra_ attention, as the spider was entangling a small string of silk around the mirror's skinny legs.

Bringing up the poem book he had just wasted time over, Alois brought it over his head and smashed it down onto the spider with a small squeal of joy, seeing it flatten, dying in an instant along with its unborn babies. A spot of blood hit the clean surface of the mirror, dribbling down silently as if it were a tear.

Noticing the debauchment of the pretty glass from his murder, Alois brought a finger over to it, just barely brushing over the crystalware in an attempt to clean it. What he wasn't expecting was for his hand to go right through the mirror in a burst of... sparkles?

He let out a gasp, taken aback, seeing his hand had gone straight through the mirror and to whatever lay beyond it. Standing to his feet, he wobbled slightly on the precarious surface, attempting to free his hand. Instead, he felt his entire wrist get swallowed, and then the mirror pulled the rest of him with it.

As his body passed through, the mirror burst into more sparkles, and a piercing sound, reminiscent to launched fireworks, rang through his ears. He barely had time to blink before he fell over an unseen edge, and his stomach lurched forward violently.

He screamed, but there was no echo that rang around the room as he plummeted fast, down through the air. Various visions that seemed like memories flashed around the room, dancing across the walls in a ghostly white. On the right wall he saw his brother, chasing a duck with a large, missing-toothed smile; a farmer that had once given them candy on one of their strolls with their parents; a horse race his family had watched with excitement and curiosity. The memories danced across the walls in a phantom glow, and he only watched them soar by, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, unsure of what to do.

He glanced downwards, over his left shoulder to see the ground coming closer and closer, but his speed wasn't letting up in the least.

At the last moment, his body flipped over so his back faced the ceiling and his chest faced the floor, and he landed, head-on, with a resonating _thud_ and a loud groan and scream.

His vision blurred horribly, and his heart pounded from the strong, violent impact. His head had met the ground, forehead first, and the thundering headache that weaved itself upon his brain felt similar to the feeling of slamming one's forehead with a large tome repeatedly.

The earl sat there, breathing raggedly, attempting to stop the thundering noises in his ear, the splitting headache, and the rapid beating of his heart that filled his ears like an overflowing cup.

His crystal eyes crumbled closed as he pushed away the numbness and unlocked his stiff joints hesitantly. The coolness of the marble floor against his cheek provided a tiny source of comfort for his splitting headache.

When he reopened his eyes, he was surprised to see no blood had pooled around his head from the sharp impact from his fall. After a long moment of sitting and breathing, he sat on his haunches, looking around at where he now was.

It was a room of his mansion that he had never seen before. The walls stretched on so high into eternity he couldn't even see a chandelier, nor could he see the ceiling itself.

The room was dark, grey, dreary and empty, and it sent a chill down his spine before he called into nothingness, "Claude!"

No answer.

"Claude! ...Answer dammit!"

Nothing.

A thin spider-thread of fear laced around his heart and squeezed slightly when he swore he heard whispers beyond. Turning around, he saw virtually nothing, but swore there had been a presence there.

After coaxing his stiff legs, he arose, only then noticing the absence of his purple coat, thigh-high stockings, boots, dress-shirt, and vest.

His whole attire had been replaced with a pink jumper-overall-esque costume, covered by a white pinafore, and the strangest white and black striped stockings, inky-black heeled shoes (with thicker and smaller heels than his normal shoes), and a white bow tied into his hair.

He studied himself for a moment, but said nothing about the change, and continued walking towards a door that had been behind him that he was sure had never been there before.

Snagging the doorknob, he gave a strong pull, but nothing happened, to which he threw out an exclamation of "shit," and then moved to the next door, then the next, then the next, all giving him the same response.

At some point, he even began kicking one of the doors in an attempt to knock it down, but it didn't give way, and he fell to the ground on his knees in defeat.

"Claude... where are you? Why don't you answer me?"

Glancing about the room on hands and knees, he searched for any cracks or wall splinters that he could squeeze through. As he searched the cool, black-and-white tiles, something entered his peripheral vision: a small, glass table with three legs.

Standing up and walking towards it, he easily pushed the beautiful furnishing to the wall, attempting to reach the unseen ceiling by standing on it.

Unfortunately, the table was so small it barely reached anything, far less the ceiling, and Alois again cursed loudly until his foot brushed against something on the table's surface.

A small, transparent box that carried what looked like a cake jittered slowly to the side from the impact of his foot.

"What's this?" He bent over and picked it up, inspecting it curiously before opening it and reading, _"Eat Me"_.

Without a second thought, he did as instructed, and gobbled up almost the entire thing. And he immediately skyrocketed upwards and slammed his head against the ceiling.

"Ow, fuck!"

No sooner had he screeched this had he noticed a small bottle on the table's surface with a tag that said, _"Drink Me"_.

This time, he was a bit hesitant on being instructed, but nevertheless unscrewed the top, taking only a small sip, to which his body responded by shrinking considerably.

Fortunately, before he could plummet downwards for a second time, he caught ahold of one of the sills (though there was no window) built on the side of the room, and pulled himself up onto it.

Deciding these strange foods might be of some use, he decided to keep them with him. He undid a thread from the pinafore and looped it through a hole in the bottle's top to make a bracelet. Then, he did the same with the box of half-eaten cake and made another bracelet.

When done, he sidled the wall, back and palms both pressed to it as he baby-stepped, praying that he wouldn't fall or lose his balance on the narrow sill.

To his joy, he found a crack in the wall, and was easily able to slip through to the other side.

He entered into another room that looked just like the drawing room in the Trancy manor, the only difference was that everything was in reverse, just like a mirror.

Even though this room _looked_ to be that of the Trancy's household on the exterior, internally, it had a whole different essence that shook Alois to the core of his heart.

The room was dimly-lit, but everything was organized and set perfectly, not an element out of place, almost like a petite dollhouse.

Alois glanced to the far left of the room and espied a fireplace burning rapidly, filling the room with a crackling tune chorused by red oak and ash firewood. Even though the firewood was of an excellent kind, it provided no warmth for him, and he still felt frozen from head to toe.

Resting in the centre of the room was a rectangular table, polished to a glossy glow, decorated in an elegant swirl pattern. The table presented an array of shining silverware and folded napkins, arranged for guests, but there was no sign of life in the room.

Alois crawled from the ceiling, taking care as he slid onto the ground from the wall's jutted edges, and landed on the floor.

A shot of alarm ripped at his spine like the claws of a monster as he crept across the wine-colored carpet, taking in the sight of old chairs, a bare divan crowded with pillows, and a black credenza flanked by two pure glass cabinets, all of which he had seen before in his own household.

Standing on the far right of the room was a grandfather clock. Even as the golden pendulum swung freely, the clock made no sound, and the hands stayed motionless, refusing to do time justice.

Alois watched the pendulum sway, then checked the time to see that the numbers were also in reverse. As he looked back to the clock's face, he saw two eyes and a large grin that looked very familiar to him.

He plodded the room, watching the framed pictures of landscapes as their pastel trees and watercolor roses oscillated in a wind that wasn't there. At least, a wind that wasn't _supposed_ to be on _framed_ pictures. Nearby, a painting of a man on a horse moved ever-so-slightly; the man visibly clutched his rider's crop tightly while the horse briskly galloped onwards.

_The pictures are moving,_ he told himself.

Once he arrived at the table, he noticed another small _'Eat Me'_ cake box near the leg. Seizing it, he nibbled on the square and blew up to what seemed mostly like his normal height.

When the blonde finally reached the fireplace, he saw something that he hadn't seen when he surveyed the area from the ceiling.

Strewn in every direction, red and white chess pieces laid mostly face down, almost bowing, to the intense flames trapped between the mantles. Alois entered the firelight's territory just enough so the glow doused his knees down to his feet in the orangish ocean of flames.

He bent down, gingerly grasping one of the pieces that laid on the hearth. He identified the piece as a Red Queen, though it looked nothing like the chess pieces he was familiar with- no, this piece looked like a miniature statue of scarlet. It looked extremely unpleasant as well, for its face stretched into a wide smile that bore sharp teeth.

He placed the piece down, and before he could stand back up again, something else entered his peripheral vision that he _knew_ hadn't been there before.

Standing by his side was a human-sized chess piece, the only one that wasn't bowing to the fire or laying on its side.

He recognized this piece as a White Queen, but foremost, he recognized it as his maid, Hannah Anafeloz.

Doused in silver and white, she was actually quite a stunning sight to behold: smooth café au lait skin, a silver shimmering ocean of hair that rested on her thighs, slightly pursed, soft lips, and glistening yet unmoving eyes the color of a rainy day cloud.

She wore a silvery-white skirt, obviously supported by a farthingale, topped by a snow-white bodice (shaped like a corset) fastened in the back with small inky buttons. The outfit was accompanied by black evening gloves, and a black collar that displayed a single diamond encircled with a silver border. In the back of the skirt was an enormous black ribbon. On her head she wore a silver tiara with a fascinator that bloomed into a silk white rose with black ribboned leaves entangled to its side, both the rose and the leaves were doused with small dots of diamond, displayed the effect of morning dew.

Stalking over to the chess piece, Alois glowered at her, placing both hands on his hips before saying, "What are you just sitting there for?"

He barely had the time to finish the sentence before the chess piece came alive, walking right past him as if she never noticed him.

"Yes, Alice has already arrived," she said, but her eyes looked straight past him as if she were talking to someone else. Oddly enough, no one else was there; there were no other signs of life in the room.

"She was accompanied by someone?" her voice was soft and danced along the crackling of the flames. "No, I don't think I've heard of him before. Does he seem friendly?" She paused here, a thoughtful look spreading across her features. She tapped her chin with her gloved fingers, then replied, "Well, keep an eye on him, just in case."

From there, she waited awhile, tossing glances at whomever was speaking back to her before springing alive again with, "Dear, if you wish not to forget, simply write everything down in a memorandum-book."

_She's ignoring me... Or she's finally gone mad!_

Alois followed her to the table, grabbing onto her hair and giving it a sharp yank, but she didn't respond, nor did she even seem to notice someone had assaulted her. Instead, she continued moving, and eventually Alois's hands went through her body as if it were smoke.

_I must be invisible... _

Smoothing the wrinkles from her skirts, she turned to another door behind the fireplace. After loosening the knob she passed through, leaving behind the swaying of her bow and a flutter from her dress as if she were a ghostly snowbird.

"Where is she going...?" he cut himself off with a snort, then stocked over to the door, rubbing at his arms, attempting to find a little warmth.


	2. Flowery Wonderland

**Thank You: **Thank you for the sweet reviews and favs/alerts I've received so far! I appreciate you all for taking the time to read my works, and I will try my hardest not to let you down!

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Once Alois passed through the door, he walked right into a world darker than what he had expected.

It seemed to be only mid-afternoon, around the time families would be finishing up an after-dinner stroll. The sky was dark purple, mixed with an orange hue, and was just slightly lined with white dots that Alois guessed were stars.

When he was in his own home, reading in the library, it had been pitch-black night outside, and a blizzard had been raging, and the winds had been screaming. Here, the winds were calm; though, when they did blow, Alois hissed and shivered from their wrath.

But now he knew for certain that he was in an entirely different world. Everything seemed to be in reverse. There were odd things like clocks with faces, chess pieces that looked like statues, an entire living room awaiting guests that never came, and food that made him grow and drinks that made him shrink.

Despite this, he was intent on something else. So he rounded the house, looking for the beautiful silver ghost.

Nothing.

Instead, a hill and a path came into view. The path, however, seemed to loll on forever in a zigzag, corkscrew-like fashion, but it seemed to lead right up the hill.

With nowhere else to go, he attempted to climb the hill, hoping to be lead to some place where someone could explain things to him. However, even though he walked forward, the hill did nothing but lead him right back to facade of the house he had just been inside.

"What?" He jumped back, mouth open wide as his eyes flashed towards the hill, scrutinizing it with a bit lip. The hill seemed so far away. It was almost as if he hadn't even moved an inch!

He tried to reach the hill again, running this time, only to receive the same result. This happened four more times before he stopped trying with a stomp of his foot, crossing his arms like a child, huffing. But just as quickly, almost as if to pacify his angry, the corkscrew path beckoned to him again, and his brain told him to follow it. It couldn't possibly give him the same result as when he directly climbed the hill...

As luck would have it, it didn't, but he still never reached the top of the hill. Instead, after various twists and turns, he arrived in a world of flower beds.

All sorts of budding treasures met his gaze, and Alois, being quite the flower-lover, admired them with a smile only seen in his mind. It wasn't a hobby or anything, but he took great pleasure in flowers, and on many occasions, he had gone into the garden, threw a new bag of seeds at his butler and left, ordering, "Plant them."

Among his floral favorites was the beloved rose, though just recently, he had been reminded of a species called 'bluebells'. He had heard of them before, but it was only the week prior that he actually gotten to see them up close. These flowers were captivating and blueberry-colored, but they were modest and submissive, always carrying their heads down in shame.

After he had seen them, he had instructed Claude on growing them, despite the butler saying it would do no good to plant them in the winter. Alois even kept a nice spray of them in a vase on his night table, even though Claude insisted that they needed more sunlight than what they were being given.

His obsession with the campanulate flowers didn't stop there. In the mornings, once he was dressed and primped for the day, he usually bent over his blue treasures, kissing their leaves and petting their curved and recurved edges. On a special day, he would snip one bell off its stem and attach it to his shirt, greeting Claude with a cheerful yet mischievous smile and the promise of a game of "notice something new?"

He found himself searching through these flower beds for the cerulean beauties, but was rightfully disappointed when he found none.

Instead, he saw tiger lilies, safflowers, flax, phlox, and a few bunches of roses, all of varying, yet pleasing colors. In the very least, the roses made up for the bed's lack of bluebells, and he bent down to pluck a few to take home with him.

His fingers hadn't even brushed a single petal before the flowers sprung to life, screaming and holding their leaves in front of his face to shoo him away.

"No! Don't pick me, I'm only a petunia! The flax is more satisfying!"

"_Me?_ All good little ones _love_ roses!"

"No, no! Roses are too popular, too common! You'll do better with something a bit more rare like... phlox!"

The flowers blubbered and gabbed, begging for their lives as Alois stood there, astonished, hand half-outstretched. Flowers were speaking to him now. He was nonplussed, but a tiny, tiny bit of him wondered if he should have been scared.

He eventually retracted, and the flowers breathed sighs of relief in unison.

"You look as if you've never seen a talking flower before," a tiger lily in the front of the bed presupposed, nodding its head towards him and waving its leaves. "Well, I'll have you know that we flowers can talk just as well as _you_ can!"

"I'll say!" another jumped in, shaking its leaves as if to shame Alois whom was still standing there, waiting for the shock to wash out of him.

"_You_ should have been the one to start the conversation! It's all in good manners," another chimed in.

"Maybe she knows no manners," said a pink cosmos, also jumping on the bandwagon.

"Maybe she's a flower that wasn't trained properly?"

The tiger lily turned towards Alois, moving its petals as if it were surveying him closely before saying, "You seem to be a very interesting flower indeed. Your bright pink petals are gorgeous, but you don't look to be a smart one!"

"Why, I never saw anyone that looked stupider!" a purple lisianthus shot out, and all the flowers burst into an eruption of girlish laughter and giggling.

"Even that other flower that came by looked prettier than you!" a freesia retorted between laughter, and others joined the conversation again, beginning with a hollyhock that squealed, "What a nice blue color _she_ was!"

Then a dogwood added, "Her petals were drawn up close, almost like a closed bud! But at any rate, she was much prettier than _you_."

They continued giggling to themselves, waving their petals and leaves. Their laughter carried along the gentle wind until Alois simply stomped on each bed, grinding every petal under his heels until all their horrified screams ceased, as if they had died.

"They all died so quickly!" he jeered, while standing on a bed of orchids, making sure ever last squeal was silenced before stepping off, cleaning his shoes against the sidewalk path. "How pitiable."

He turned around to set off again, but nearly rammed right into the shoulder blade of a fairly tall, blonde young man. The man was dressed all in red, even his glasses were red-rimmed. And upon his head sat a crown.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" Alois' question was curt and was said with a slightly disheveled face. Even though this person seemed to be dressed as the Red King chess piece, Alois didn't believe that it _was_ the Red King. After all, game pieces didn't just come alive and take human form.

Instead of answering, the blonde waved a hand, saying, "If you're trying to get to the hill, you're going about it all wrong."

"What do you mea−"

Without any form of explanation, the Red King piece had taken his leave by walking backwards until he vanished into thin air, leaving Alois confused. Not even two seconds into silence, the wind rustled by and a soft crinkling noise came from below.

The blonde turned his eyes to the ground, and noticed a thick, maroon-colored book titled in gold, '_Memorandum'_. He had no idea how it had gotten there, but he picked it up and began paging through it while unconsciously walking backwards.

The book was filled to the brim with notes, sketches, facts, explanations, and miniature lectures, but Alois didn't know any of what it meant because the book was written all in a language he couldn't read. Not even the sketches made a bit of sense to him. Though one in particular caught his eye: it was a sketch of someone who looked very much like his butler. The man lay against a tree, a gray scribble of what looked like liquid dribbled from his mouth. His expression was one of pain, and Alois felt his body tense as he traced each crease in the man's face.

The man's eyes were shut, his glasses were cracked, and his hands lay limp: one against the ground, the other clutching his side. But what held most of Alois' attention were three long scratches across the man's chest that looked as if he had been clawed by some kind of animal.

Closing the book quickly, Alois looked around to see the entire atmosphere had changed. It looked to be around noontime, and the wind wasn't as vicious as it had been. It wasn't as cold as it had been either. The greatest change was the ground, as it was now divided into squares that looked exactly like that of a chessboard.

He traipsed along the ground in awe, glancing this way and that as his eyes took in the sight of large trees, men dressed as knight clashing with one another, and other chess-like pieces.

Near one of the trees, he spied the Red King-looking piece from before, measuring out the ground with a large red ribbon marked in inches.

_He'd probably know something about the book_, Alois began to muse. _It might have even belong to him._

Alois quickened his pace to the Red King's side, holding the book out to him before ordering, "Tell me about this book."

The King didn't bother to look up. Instead he went on to say, "At the end of two yards, I'll give you directions," and he stuck a peg in the ground to mark his distance.

"At the end of three yards, I'll repeat them. At the end of four yards, I'll say bye, and at the end of five yards, I'll leave." He placed pegs at all of these measured spaces, standing back up to stretch his back.

"What are you even talking about?"

"At this point in the game you're still a pawn. By the eighth square, though, you'll become a queen... or king, whichever," the man instructed, again ignoring everything Alois said.

"On its first move, a pawn goes two spaces, so you'll be able to reach the third square quickly. Oh, and you'll have to go by railway. On the fourth square, you'll meet three knights. The fifth square is filled with water, and the sixth belongs to Humpty Dumpty. The seventh square is where you'll meet another knight, and he will help you through the forest, and in the eighth square, you'll be crowned. Make sense?"

"Crowned?" Alois questioned, but the King went on to say, "Well, that is if the other Alice doesn't get to the square first. If she does, she'll be crowned instead."

Alois simply stared at the King, ignoring his proposal of what he guessed to be a chess game. "How do I get home?"

"That's what I just said. You and the other Alice are both trying to get home. The one to reach the eighth square first gets crowned then gets to return home. The loser has to stay in Wonderland."

"Wonderland?" Alois repeated. He connected that that must be the name of the crazy, previously-unnamed mirror universe where he was now.

"And who is the other−"

"Well, good luck!" the King replied, yawning shortly before throwing back a wave. Before Alois could say anything in response, he was gone.


	3. Forgetful Wonderland

If he didn't reach the eighth square first, the "other Alice" would be crowned and would be allowed to go home, while he would have to stay in Wonderland for who knows how long.

The thought didn't sit well with Alois as he wandered across the chessboard's length, narrowly avoiding the clashing swords and soaring spears from the various knights.

Not only did he dislike it, but he was confused. Why did he have to be dragged into a game he didn't feel like playing? All he had wanted to do was go home. Instead, he was pulled into a reverse world with the only benefit that he reaped being that his stomachache had completely vanished.

Long before that time, his headache had also ceased, and he seemed to be injured in no other places from his previous fall.

He began mapping out what he was to do next.

The Red King had set out pegs and had told him directions, but they were too vague. He had said "two yards" but he had never said in _which_ direction. Alois figured that he'd keep walking until he was lead somewhere. At least he had learned that the secret to getting places was to walk backwards, which he did, though not without some difficulty.

Holding the memorandum-book under his arm, he hesitantly crept backwards, step by step, head craned to see what was behind him. With his head turned to the back, he failed to notice that the atmosphere in _front_ of him changed yet again, and all at once he noticed himself seated on the bench of a train.

Across from him sat three creatures: a man who sat next to a goat, who, in turn sat next to a beetle.

The thing that Alois found to be very strange was the man's attire, for he was dressed in a two-piece suit, an overcoat, a bowler hat, loafers, and a wristwatch* (which Alois found to be very stupid and 'effeminate' looking, though he didn't use _those_ words exactly) all made of newspaper.

His brain fumbled a bit, searching through memories of faces he'd seen around London before, and soon the man's face began to look familiar. On a mission or two issued by the Queen, Alois had seen the face of the police commissioner, Sir Arthur Randall, and his face looked exactly like that of the man sitting across from him.

"You look like someone I know from London," Alois began, but was quickly cut off when Randall looked up and criticized in a hard, haughty voice, "So young a child ought to know where she's going, even if she doesn't know her own name."

"Huh?"

"She ought to know her way to the ticket office, even if she doesn't know her own alphabet," bleated the goat, its beard whipping to and fro as it spoke (it seem to be wearing eye glasses as well, which Alois also found to be very stupid looking).

"She ought to know the direction in which the train is going and all of its stops in between, even if she doesn't know how to walk!" the beetle spat, and the rest of their conversation was shut off, as a man sauntered over to them.

He held out his hand to Alois, shouting, "Ticket, please!" and when Alois looked up, he realized the man looked very much like Randall's partner (whom he had also seen once or twice, but had never talked to) Abberline. Only this man looked slightly different, for he had a mustache.

"Ticket?" Alois repeated, "I don't have one."

And there were gasps abound as Abberline crossed his arms and shook his head, repeating, "Ticket, please." He might have thought that if he asked more than once, Alois' answer would change.

"I said I don't _have_ one."

"Don't keep him waiting," a multitude of random voices chorused. "His time is worth a thousand pounds a minute!"

Those seemed to be the voices of a bunch of other passengers, but Alois didn't _see_ any one in the car...

Abberline turned back to Alois, inquiring, "You boarded the train without a ticket?"

"Obviously."

"She snuck inside!" the people chorused again, "Why, her tricks must be worth a thousand pounds a scheme!"

Alois opened his mouth to yell at the irritatingly nosy (and invisible) people, but was cut off when they spoke again, in unison, "Better not say anything, little girl! Language is worth a thousand pounds a word."

Before the ticket collector could say anything else, the train took off, speeding down the tracks swiftly and roughly, and he clumsily tripped over himself, screaming as he slid down into another section of the car.

Alois would have laughed, but he himself struggled to stay seated. In contrast, the man, the goat, and the beetle all seemed not to have a single problem with sitting still. And they didn't seem to notice Alois' struggles either.

The goat bleated loudly, chewing something unknown before hoofing at the newspaper the man next to him was reading, saying, "Nice weather, I heaaard. But it's so hot."

To which the man responded with, "It is. I believe that the sun must shine hotter than−" he had no time to finish his sentence, for a horse had stuck its head out the window of a leading car, shouting in a hoarse voice, "Change engines!"

Once the horse pulled its head back inside the train, the beetle immediately began speaking. "You might make a joke about that: something about horse and hoarse, you know."

Alois (who guessed that the insect was talking to him) stared at it for a while, but otherwise said nothing before turning his head towards the window, only to hear the goat speak again.

"The drab benches in heeeere complement your colorless suit quite nicely," the goat complimented Randall, though it didn't sound like one. Again the beetle spoke "You might make a joke about that: something about complement and compliment, you know."

Alois shot the insect another look, but again said nothing and only turned to look back out the window at the blurring landscape that rolled by at top speed.

At one point in the journey, the train actually jumped and crashed back onto the track, causing many of the invisible guests to gasp in astonishment. The track made a few other screeching noises of metal, but eventually the noises ceased, giving way to the familiar clicking of the wheels on the track.

It was the horse again that leaned its head out the window, shouting, "Don't worry! It's only a brook we jumped over! If you could all calm down, we should make the next stop in just a moment."

"You might make a joke about that: something about 'we should if you could', you know."

"What does telling jokes have to do with anything?" Alois snapped, quite viciously. In fact, the response seemed so savage that the beetle gave a _very_ small sigh that would have made anyone (except for Alois Trancy) feel sorry for it. After that, it said nothing more.

At this point, the train skimmed through a tunnel, and a luminous light that only Alois saw danced across the tunnel walls, reading, "Square Three Down Ahead."

"_Down_ ahead?"

He was sure that correct grammar usually supported _up_ ahead, but said nothing about the sign, as there was no reason to since he was the only one who saw it.

Once the blackened shrouds of the tunnel parted, the train abruptly halted _right_ in front of the mouth of a wood. It seemed a very _odd_ place to stop, and Alois actually waited a few moments for the train to start up again, but the man, goat, and beetle seemed to be standing up and leaving, so Alois decided to do the same.

But as soon as he stood, he had no chance to actually _leave_ the train, for it melted away and he was left standing on where the track _had_ been, utterly and rightfully perplexed.

Turning to the wood, he saw a sign that lead in, warning, "_Forgetful Wood - Please Remember Your Name_" in elegant cursive.

"Remember your name?"

With a shrug, the blonde strolled into the wood, memorandum-book still clutched under his arm. No sooner had he entered had his mind gone completely blank. He immediately realized this with a stifled gasp, and glanced around, unable to identify the name of anything he saw.

Everything was a blank slate, and it stayed that way no matter what object he attempted to identify, tag, or name. First he saw a tree, but was unable to place what it was called and was forced to call it 'thing'.

"Dammit, what was this... _thing_ called again? It's a plant, but... Why can't I remember?"

Then sprang the question in his head, 'who am I'? And Alois pondered this for a second, almost on the verge of a tantrum from forgetting something so simple. He remembered quite clearly that the name he _had_ (whatever it was) wasn't his birth name (which he also couldn't remember), and stomped his foot in misery.

His mind hunted through his memories for his birth name, but he only came up with a jumble of letters m, h, a, and i.

"What was my name again? Dammit! ...I know it began with an 'L'..."

He walked onwards, pulling at his hair in denial, calling trees 'things' and the ground 'that' and fiercely restricting himself to the use of words such as 'I' or 'me' when he referred to himself.

He thought of Claude, but the man was identified as, 'that guy', and he thought of Hannah, but she was identified as 'that maid'. As he wrung his hands, he caught sight of his ring, and couldn't even remember the name of the jewelry upon his finger. He called it 'that accessory'.

Luckily, the wood wasn't a very vast one, and he eventually found the exit, dashing through with happiness as he embraced his memories full force.

_My name is Alois Trancy. My butler is Claude Faustus. Hannah is my maid. Those are trees. That is dirt. This is a ring. I used to be Jim McCain. _

No sooner had he briefly quizzed himself had he rammed right into the three bodies of the three knights that he was to meet on the Fourth Square.


	4. Regal Wonderland

**A/N:** I'm sorry for taking so long to update (pretty much a year!). But I'm wondering if anyone is interested in this 'fic anymore. I do hope so, since I enjoyed writing it so much. Please review if you are still interested in the upcoming chapters! The story is actually finished, but it'd be a waste to post it without anyone being around to read it. :( But for all those still following, reading, and reviewing, thanks so very much!

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Dressed in white and silver armor stood three knights that appeared to look very much like his servants, Timber, Thompson, and Canterbury.

Now that Alois was on the Fourth Square of the game, he thought that he was at the very _least_ a knight by now instead of a pawn. Maybe he was even a bishop by now. He was still unsure and really had no one to tell him or no other way of knowing.

The three knights sat as still as wax statues, not a breath or a batting lash went through Alois's vision as he watched them closely.

They were immovable, unwavering and firm, and the longer Alois stared at them, waiting for them to fail in some way, the more he began to think that they actually _did_ slightly resemble knights.

Being a child, Alois also tired of them quite easily, and gave up testing their immobility. He moved forward, but not before he ground out the word, "Useless," with a familiar icy tone.

Once his back was turned to them, they rose to life, each shooting an unreadable expression at the blonde boy's back. They lifted their hands to cover their lips as they always did, and then began whispering amongst themselves.

They drowned themselves entirely in a conversation that seemed to be spoken in a code of whispers and murmurs, while one knight would, every-so-often, raise a hand and point at Alois.

The knights then turned towards each other, shaking each other's hands as if they were meeting for the first time, before pointing again at Alois as if to say, _'She didn't even introduce herself to us.'_

They shook their heads miserably, then scrambled over to the earl and heaved back the looming branches and leaves of a crooked tree that blocked the wood's egress.

Once the branches were moved, there was a sign that read, "Welcome to the Fourth Square".

Alois glanced at them with somewhat of a glare, but only saw them scramble away, concealing themselves behind trees and leaving Alois alone and out in the open.

He rolled his eyes, saying nothing, but walked through the now-unblocked path, only to be brought from this wood, right into another. Only this new wood had more tightly packed trees and a denser mist that darkened and obscured the area.

At this point, Alois remembered the memorandum-book under his arm, and brought it to his attention. The picture of the injured man that looked like Claude still burned a blackened haze of concern in his mind, but he pushed it aside, intent on finding some kind of instructions or a map of Wonderland on its pages.

No sooner had he opened the book did he feel something wet hit his hands, and upon looking at them, he noticed a black substance that he soon realized was ink. One of the pages must have been fairly new...

It wasn't hard to find the page, and once he did, he was plunged into one of the most confusing jumbled mass of words that he had ever read:

'_Twas brillig, and the slithy toves _

_Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; _

_All mimsy were the borogoves, _

_And the mome raths outgrabe._'

He stared at the page, muttering curses under his breath before he remembered that he was in a mirror-world, thus the words must have been backwards.

Conveniently, once he glanced upwards, he espied a mirror that seemed to be growing on a tree, and stalked over to it, holding the book up to read the reflection. He was sure that this would make them more understandable. But instead the book read:

_'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves_

_Did gyre and gimble in the wave;_

_All mimsy were the borogoves,_

_And the mome raths outgrave.' _

And then went on to say:

_'_"_Beware the Jabberwock, my son. _

_The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!_

_Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun_

_He took his Vorpal sword in hand:_

_Long time the manxome foe he sought–_

_So rested he by the Tumtum tree,_

_And stood awhile in thought._

_And as in uffish thought he stood,_

_The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,_

_Came whiffling through the Tulgey wood,_

_And burbled as it came!_

_One, two! One, two! And through and through_

_The Vorpal blade went snicker-snack!_

_He left it dead, and with its head_

_He went galumphing back. _

__"_And has thou slain the Jabberwock?_

_Come to my arms, my beamish boy!_

_O Frabjous Day! Callooh! Callay!_"

_He chortled in his joy. _

_'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves_

_Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;_

_All mimsy were the borogoves,_

_And the mome raths outgrave.'_

Alois reread the poem three times before his frown had deepened quite enough. Aside from the words that made no sense to him, there were creatures ("What the devil is a Jabberwock?") that he didn't even think existed. Of course, the poem was fictional, but what was the purpose of the fake words like galumphing, brillg, and maxnome?

At last he concluded that the words must have been in a different language entirely, but his decision had been rushed, for he had heard a whistle of leaves and a low growl coming from the trees.

Glancing around, he swore that he saw a flicker from the brush, then another after he blinked to make sure that he had truly seen them.

Fear crept through his body again, and settled with a rattle on his stomach, making him feel queasy and faint. Alarm raked its long claws down his spine and choked a gasp out of his throat. His brain clicked, and he unconsciously took a step backwards as if to use distance to protect himself from whatever might lay in front of him. And just then, a stern voice penetrated the foreboding thoughts in his mind like a gong being struck.

"What are you looking for?"

The voice had come from one of the distorted trees, and when Alois glanced upwards, he saw a sapphire-eyed boy with dark hair, around his age, staring down at him. Almost like a king sitting upon a throne.


End file.
